This article is from the source 'guardian' and was first published or seen on . It last changed over 40 days ago and won't be checked again for changes.

You can find the current article at its original source at http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2013/jun/21/derry-built-bridges-industry-wont-back

The article has changed 2 times. There is an RSS feed of changes available.

Version 0 Version 1
Derry has built bridges – but its industry won't come back Derry has built bridges – but its industry won't come back
(3 months later)
As Dundee, Hull, Leicester and Swansea Bay are shortlisted to become the UK's second city of culture in 2017, it's worth having a look at how the first holder of that title is coping. Last week, Derry's Guildhall reopened to the public. It was intended as one of the highlights of the inaugural UK city of culture year, and you can now see the opulent interior of this oft-bombed seat of municipal government and Victorian civic grandeur, its red sandstone Gothic clocktower joining Derry's two cathedrals that are emblematic of this low-rise city.As Dundee, Hull, Leicester and Swansea Bay are shortlisted to become the UK's second city of culture in 2017, it's worth having a look at how the first holder of that title is coping. Last week, Derry's Guildhall reopened to the public. It was intended as one of the highlights of the inaugural UK city of culture year, and you can now see the opulent interior of this oft-bombed seat of municipal government and Victorian civic grandeur, its red sandstone Gothic clocktower joining Derry's two cathedrals that are emblematic of this low-rise city.
The building is worth seeing, but what might be even more notable is what lies around it: a re-landscaped Guildhall Square, then just around the corner a new bridge, leading to another square carved out of an even more controversial space – the former Ebrington barracks, used by the British army until well into the 1990s. The intention is clear – to present a city putting the past behind it, taking previously contentious places and defusing them. So, on a casual visit, how much has this succeeded?The building is worth seeing, but what might be even more notable is what lies around it: a re-landscaped Guildhall Square, then just around the corner a new bridge, leading to another square carved out of an even more controversial space – the former Ebrington barracks, used by the British army until well into the 1990s. The intention is clear – to present a city putting the past behind it, taking previously contentious places and defusing them. So, on a casual visit, how much has this succeeded?
In the cultural capitals of England, there might be a vague acknowledgment of the history behind the "heritage" – mentions of slavery in Liverpool, a word or two about 14-hour shifts and child labour in Manchester. But in Derry, the history is so in your face, and much of it so recent, that it is almost impossible not to be made uncomfortably aware of it. How can it immortalise – as it tries to – both the siege of 1689 and the battle of the Bogside in 1969? One approach is to attempt to tie the city together, erasing as much as possible its physical divides.In the cultural capitals of England, there might be a vague acknowledgment of the history behind the "heritage" – mentions of slavery in Liverpool, a word or two about 14-hour shifts and child labour in Manchester. But in Derry, the history is so in your face, and much of it so recent, that it is almost impossible not to be made uncomfortably aware of it. How can it immortalise – as it tries to – both the siege of 1689 and the battle of the Bogside in 1969? One approach is to attempt to tie the city together, erasing as much as possible its physical divides.
So you have the Peace bridge: a swoopy, curvy thing designed by Wilkinson Eyre, architect-engineers who specialise in this sort of thing, as at Salford Quays or Gateshead. There, the "symbolic" import is all about post-industrial rebirth; here, about connecting communities. Walk across to Ebrington Square and you find a multilevel public space, where abstract light fittings have been set in front of listed barracks. Here also are the city of culture offices, twice the target for dissident republicans. An effort has been made here to link the city's west (traditionally mainly nationalist) and east (traditionally mainly unionist) sides, but does this extend further than a tourist showcase? To find out, you'd have to properly explore.So you have the Peace bridge: a swoopy, curvy thing designed by Wilkinson Eyre, architect-engineers who specialise in this sort of thing, as at Salford Quays or Gateshead. There, the "symbolic" import is all about post-industrial rebirth; here, about connecting communities. Walk across to Ebrington Square and you find a multilevel public space, where abstract light fittings have been set in front of listed barracks. Here also are the city of culture offices, twice the target for dissident republicans. An effort has been made here to link the city's west (traditionally mainly nationalist) and east (traditionally mainly unionist) sides, but does this extend further than a tourist showcase? To find out, you'd have to properly explore.
Residential Derry is not as terrifyingly Balkanised as Belfast, with its 40-plus "peace lines", and there are considerably fewer gable-end murals than in the capital (though what there are serve as tourist draws). Much of it shows the effects of the housing reforms in the 80s. In an approving 1987 account, the design writer Ken Baynes claimed: "Ulster is a laboratory for the way housing design may go in the future … as people of different religious persuasions prefer not to live together, the concept of 'defensible space' has a sharp and real significance. The grouping of the new buildings reinforces this: each community being locked safely within its boundaries."Residential Derry is not as terrifyingly Balkanised as Belfast, with its 40-plus "peace lines", and there are considerably fewer gable-end murals than in the capital (though what there are serve as tourist draws). Much of it shows the effects of the housing reforms in the 80s. In an approving 1987 account, the design writer Ken Baynes claimed: "Ulster is a laboratory for the way housing design may go in the future … as people of different religious persuasions prefer not to live together, the concept of 'defensible space' has a sharp and real significance. The grouping of the new buildings reinforces this: each community being locked safely within its boundaries."
The result is, unsurprisingly, bleak – cul-de-sacs of little houses, with a closed and paranoid feel. This model has been broken in some of the New Labour-era blocks of flats on the river, but the cheap, nasty designs there reflect a panic to build before the money ran out. There are fine new buildings – for instance Culturlann Ui Chanain, a Gaelic cultural centre and one of the best pieces of recent architecture anywhere in the UK, which sits in a small but imposing district of Georgian townhouses. Having built one or two gems among the dross is hardly exclusive to Derry.The result is, unsurprisingly, bleak – cul-de-sacs of little houses, with a closed and paranoid feel. This model has been broken in some of the New Labour-era blocks of flats on the river, but the cheap, nasty designs there reflect a panic to build before the money ran out. There are fine new buildings – for instance Culturlann Ui Chanain, a Gaelic cultural centre and one of the best pieces of recent architecture anywhere in the UK, which sits in a small but imposing district of Georgian townhouses. Having built one or two gems among the dross is hardly exclusive to Derry.
The tensions that the capital of culture is trying to dampen come out most strongly at the City Factory, a textile mill converted, as it would be in Lancashire or Yorkshire, into artists' studios and galleries. Here, there are three fascinating and distinct exhibitions currently on show. Russian artist Andrei Molodkin's Catholic Blood at Void is, in description, inflammatory – blood pumping through plastic models of the windows of the Palace of Westminster, in elliptical reference to the ruling that no Catholic can advise the sovereign – ie, serve as prime minister. What this actually means in practice is a strange mechanical ensemble projected on to a wall, where the rose windows are regularly pumped with blood (donated by local Catholics), a macabre vision of miscegenation seeping into the citadel of imperial power.The tensions that the capital of culture is trying to dampen come out most strongly at the City Factory, a textile mill converted, as it would be in Lancashire or Yorkshire, into artists' studios and galleries. Here, there are three fascinating and distinct exhibitions currently on show. Russian artist Andrei Molodkin's Catholic Blood at Void is, in description, inflammatory – blood pumping through plastic models of the windows of the Palace of Westminster, in elliptical reference to the ruling that no Catholic can advise the sovereign – ie, serve as prime minister. What this actually means in practice is a strange mechanical ensemble projected on to a wall, where the rose windows are regularly pumped with blood (donated by local Catholics), a macabre vision of miscegenation seeping into the citadel of imperial power.
Next to that is Picturing Derry, a large collection of photographs of the city taken over the past 40 years. The images present a normal, mundane townscape turning into a warzone, with tanks running past semis and pitched battles among the terraces and tower blocks.Next to that is Picturing Derry, a large collection of photographs of the city taken over the past 40 years. The images present a normal, mundane townscape turning into a warzone, with tanks running past semis and pitched battles among the terraces and tower blocks.
Then there's the Shirt Factory, put together by artist Rita Duffy, a reminder of how normal, in many ways, Derry actually is. A floor of the old factory has been filled with artworks about its past as "the one-time shirt-making capital of the world", with sewing machines, cloth, books and archive material strewn around as if at random. The show could easily be in Bradford, Preston or Norwich. Derry has the highest level of unemployment in Northern Ireland, which itself has the second-highest unemployment rate of any region of the UK. While architects can design bridges, and artists – whether mural-makers or Russian conceptualists – can attract tourists, they won't bring Derry's industry back.Then there's the Shirt Factory, put together by artist Rita Duffy, a reminder of how normal, in many ways, Derry actually is. A floor of the old factory has been filled with artworks about its past as "the one-time shirt-making capital of the world", with sewing machines, cloth, books and archive material strewn around as if at random. The show could easily be in Bradford, Preston or Norwich. Derry has the highest level of unemployment in Northern Ireland, which itself has the second-highest unemployment rate of any region of the UK. While architects can design bridges, and artists – whether mural-makers or Russian conceptualists – can attract tourists, they won't bring Derry's industry back.
Our editors' picks for the day's top news and commentary delivered to your inbox each morning.